


Delivery for T. Oropherion

by bereniceofdale_archive (bereniceofdale)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, M/M, and there's a huge dirty stray dog, featuring Bard Bowman the Postman, yes I think I'm funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 17:15:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5098772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bereniceofdale/pseuds/bereniceofdale_archive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard Bowman is a postman, and yes, he's aware of the fact that his last name rhymes. What he <em>isn't</em> aware of, however, is that he's going to fall for the insufferable T. Oropherion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delivery for T. Oropherion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [electrageira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/electrageira/gifts).



> This is a lil' birthday fic for [Camilla](http://archiveofourown.org/users/electrageira) who wanted a huge, dirty stray dog making a mess of Thranduil's mansion. I was free for everything else, so here you are! I hope you'll like it dear, thank you so much for your kindness and support (and patience). <33

_Bard Bowman had once used to think he was a professional person, he really had. That belief had been completely washed away when, a few years ago, he had met Thranduil Oropherion. You see, Bard Bowman was a postman (and yes, it did give birth to an awful lot of stupid jokes and puns); he distributed people's mail in the morning, then made his deliveries on time, and sometimes had a polite conversation, and all was perfectly fine._

_But then Bard had been assigned to another area of the town, and that was when he first heard about Thranduil Oropherion._

  


“I'm sorry, lad,” Percy told him that day, looking like he truly was sorry.

“Why?” Bard asked, frowning. He finished getting the deliveries in the back of his car before he turned to his colleague, crossing his arms against his chest. “I'm the one who got your area.”

Percy laughed, waving his hand in a dismissive way.

“Nah, I don't mind about that,” he said. “I've been wanting a change of air for a while now.”

He paused to pat Bard's shoulder, and took on a conspiratory look that made Bard raise a skeptical eyebrow.

“I'm sorry, because you're the one who will have to deal with Oropherion now.”

His words caught some of his other colleagues' attention; one of them even whistled, while the two others chuckled between themselves. Bard ignored them, but wondered what stories he hadn't been told. He didn't stay long enough to hear them once his job was done, for he had children to pick up from school.

“Oropherion?” Bard repeated, leaning against the car. “You mean, the guy living in the mansion by the forest?”

“Aye, him. He orders a lot,” Percy confirmed, wincing at what Bard guessed were relatively unpleasant memories. “He's a di—I mean, a pain, but you'll understand soon enough.”

“Aye, I suppose.” Bard shrugged before he got in. All he had heard about Oropherion was that no one liked to be on the receiving end of the coldness of his gaze and the harshness of his words. Surely it wasn't as bad as people said, but then he had never lingered to listen to Percy's adventures.

He waved his friend goodbye, and drove away.

And indeed, he had a delivery for a certain T. Oropherion today. As Bard stopped before the gates of the mansion, admiring it from afar, Bard had to admit it; he was rather curious to see that glorious home up close.

“Good morning,” Bard greeted politely to the interphone. “I have a delivery for Mr. Oropherion?”

There was no answer, but the gates slowly opened, letting Bard drive to the house. It was beautiful, but nothing compared to the gardens; full of colourful flowers, neatly cut bushes, and a beautiful fountain that served as a roundabout. He didn't have much time to admire it all, though; Bard was here to do his job, not to be in awe at some rich man's property.

Another thing Bard was curious about was the man so many talked badly about.

He rang, and as the door opened, one thing was sure: he wasn't disappointed.

T. Oropherion, for it had to be him, was simply the most stunning man Bard had ever seen; his clothes fit his slender form perfectly, he had piercing, icy blue eyes under dark, thick eyebrows, and beautiful blond hair that fell down his back in a silvery cascade. He held himself proudly, and seemed taken right from a book about great kings. 

Well, Bard wasn't disappointed, until the man raised an eyebrow at him, making him feel as if he was put under X-rays. He was stared at from his feet to the top of his head, and the haughty way which it was done with gave Bard the unpleasant feeling of being judged and belittled. Instantly he regretted his first thoughts, and being so naïve; Oropherion hadn't said anything yet, but it already felt as if Percy hadn't exaggerated.

“You're new,” Oropherion said, his eyebrow still raised, and Bard really, really didn't like the man's behavior.

“Actually, I've been working here for years but—”

“Doesn't matter,” Oropherion cut him off, his eyes piercing through him like daggers. “My delivery?”

Bard's free hand clenched into a fist, and he had to retain himself from speaking through gritted teeth. He extended his booklet to the man, managing to smile politely.

“Sign here, please,” he instructed in his calmest voice.

Oropherion did so, to which Bard nodded and went back to his car to retrieve the package; it was a rather small one, and Bard couldn't help but wonder what was inside. It wasn't his business, though, and so he quickly forgot about it.

“Here you are,” Bard said, handing Oropherion his delivery and ignoring the man's mutterings about how there should be rules about shaving in such professions, then gave a small bow of his head. “Have a good day, sir.”

But the man didn't close the door; he just stayed there, looking at Bard as if he was trying to read through him once again.

“Yes?” Bard asked, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. “Can I do anything for you, sir?”

Oropherion stared at him just a while longer before he rolled his eyes.

“No,” he said flatly. “Goodbye.”

And to that he closed the door without even meeting Bard's eyes, leaving him there on the doorstep feeling like he had just failed some kind of examination.

Gods, what a prick.

When he came back to the office, Percy immediately went to him and laughed heartily at Bard's first experience with the infamous T. Oropherion. Bard, on the other hand, didn't feel much like laughing about it; he just hoped Oropherion wouldn't order as much as Percy had told Bard he did, for the last thing he wanted was to see that man on a regular basis.

Unfortunately, his wish wasn't heard and the next week saw him back at the mansion. And the next. And the next.

If Bard wondered what on Earth was Oropherion having delivered to him, he wondered even more what Percy meant with “by the gods, if he ordered a lot before, I don't know what he's doing now!” Though he didn't try to understand and, as usual, just did his job.

He went to the mansion, made Oropherion sign, gave him his package and left, all the while trying not to pay attention to how unpleasant the man was. But truth was that he seemed to soften over the weeks, and soon enough no more critiques were heard from him; he actually acted like a normal client, which was a relief to Bard. He had grown rather tired of being treated like some kind of nobody.

From then on, he saw Oropherion in a different light; he wasn't so much of a pain, when he kept his mouth shut about how Bard should learn to shave, or how the post company should really invest in better uniforms, for they were horrendous (though Bard had to be honest: it was true).

But what really changed things was their eighth meeting, two months after the first delivery.

Bard proceeded as he always did, but as he turned to go back to his car and leave, Oropherion's voice had stopped him.

“Sir, wait,” he called, and there was something new about his voice, as if he had lost just a hint of his usual complete self control.

Bard slowly turned to face him, unable to hide his surprise. Sir? Oropherion had never called him 'sir' before. Their exchanges had turned polite and purely professional over the past weeks, but it had stopped there, even though Bard had grown out to like him. A little. Alright, a lot.

“Yes?” Bard asked carefully, straightening his hat on his head.

“How do I call you?”

Bard blinked, taken by surprise.

“Bard. Bard Bowman.”

He expected the usual laugh and 'Bowman? Bard Bowman the Postman?', but Thranduil said nothing of it, and just nodded.

“So, Brad—”

“Bard.”

“Yes, Bard.” He paused, seemed to hesitate before he extended his hand. “Thranduil.”

Bard smiled despite himself, and shook it. If there was one thing he hadn't expected, it was for things to turn out this way. What he had expected even less was to see his smile returned; it was a small smile, unsure and new, but Bard instantly realized how much it was worth. It almost made him sad, for it was clear that Thranduil wasn't a man who smiled a lot, at least, not to anyone.

“A pleasure to meet you, Thranduil,” Bard said, and this time, much to his surprise, Thranduil chuckled before he got away of Bard's grip. He closed the door after a silent goodbye, and Bard was left with the strange feeling that what he had just witnessed wasn't a sight many had the chance to see.

On his way back, he could barely wipe the smile off his face.

It fell, though, when no one believed him as he told his colleagues of what had happened. They just laughed, said the man was surely drunk, despite Bard's protests. The only one who seemed to believe him was Percy, but Bard didn't know if it was a good or a bad thing.

“What?” Bard asked him.

“Nothing.” Percy shrugged, but then seemed to change his mind and a smirk appeared on his face. “It's just, you know—Mr. Oropherion, he never ordered _that_ much, he stopped being a dick towards you, and now he asks for your name? No one ever does that, and certainly not him.”

“Aye, so what?” Bard said, not sure of what he meant. Percy pinched the bridge of his nose as he let out a heavy sigh, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Percy rolled his eyes, and patted Bard's shoulder.

“Nothing, nothing,” he sighed, then sent Bard an amused look. “You'll understand when you're older. Go home, Bard.”

Bard did, feeling rather confused.

He went to retrieve his children from school, helped them with their homework, then prepared dinner. After eating in front of the television like they always did on Fridays, Bard put his little angels to bed, and it wasn't until he found himself smiling to the ceiling like the biggest idiot on Earth that he realized he might have a stupid teenager crush on Thranduil Oropherion.

Over the next months, Bard managed to keep his interest to himself; it didn't stop him from befriending Thranduil in some way though, even if their relationship wasn't going very far. Bard didn't have all the time in the world to talk, and he didn't dare asking Thranduil out. Not because he was shy or felt he wasn't worth it, but because rejection was always a possibility that he wasn't sure he wanted to face; if Thranduil didn't return his feelings, Bard didn't want their weekly meetings to turn awkward.

Worse, he didn’t want Thranduil to stop ordering.

It was better to keep things as good as they were instead of listening to a crush, wasn't it?

However, Bard actually noticed Thranduil always seemed relieved to see him when he opened his door, and that is why when he caught the flu and ended up stuck in bed for two weeks straight (that is what happens when one ignores their symptoms and goes to work anyway), he worried of what Thranduil might think, and regretted not asking for his number.

Five months of deliveries and small talks, half smiles and yearning looks, and he hadn't asked for a simple phone number.

Luckily, on his first day back at work, there was a package for Thranduil on the list (Bard still hadn't asked what it was that he ordered so frequently), which left Bard trying very hard to stay calm at the prospect of seeing Thranduil again, after so long without exchanging a single word.

During the whole ride Bard prepared what he was going to say; he had to apologize for not giving any news, for disappearing this way. He truly hoped Thranduil hadn't gotten the wrong idea from all of this, for he had done nothing to make Bard want to create any distance.

As he announced himself at the gates, Bard frowned upon noticing a rather big, dirty stray dog sitting by the edge of the road. The dog was looking at him curiously, but made no move when Bard called it. Bard shrugged to himself, deciding he would try to catch it on his way back, should it still be there.

Bard inspected himself in the reflection of his car's window before he walked to the door, and rang the bell after taking a deep breath.

It was a young boy who opened it, peering up curiously at him.

“Oh, hello, Legolas,” Bard greeted the boy, smiling down at him kindly. He knew who he was because Thranduil had often talked about his son, but they had never met before. Even so young, he looked a lot like his father, there was no mistake to be made.

“Ada, the postman's here!” Legolas called, not realizing a stranger knew his name, and smiling shyly at Bard.

Bard heard Thranduil's deep voice thanking his son and instructing him to go back to his room. The boy told him goodbye and disappeared, leaving Bard alone before the door. He straightened and checked his uniform as footsteps approached.

When Thranduil appeared in the threshold, he didn't seem to realize it was Bard standing before him.

“A delivery for Thranduil Oropherion,” Bard tried, and held his breath.

Thranduil stared for a moment which seemed like hours to Bard, until his face broke into a smile; but it was a small, hesitant and sad one that Bard wished to see take a brighter tone.

“I thought you weren't coming back,” Thranduil said. If his voice was as still and controlled as it usually was, there was a hint of disappointment to it.

“What, no,” Bard laughed, though his heart clenched in his chest at the thought that he had let Thranduil believe such a silly thing for the past two weeks. “I just—I was stuck in bed with the flu.”

Thranduil raised an eyebrow at this, as if he wasn't sure he should believe Bard or not.

“So you didn't grow tired of me?” he asked, this time sounding just slightly unsure enough to make Bard's eyes go wide in surprise; why would—why would Thranduil worry about such a thing? Unless he—oh.

“No, of course not,” Bard replied, his tone almost an offended one. “I'm sorry, I should have called, but I didn't have your number.”

Relief instantly washed over Thranduil's features, and he smirked, going back to his usual self.

“We'd better do something about that, then.”

Thranduil's smirk turned into a smile, small but softer. Bard had to look away in order not to blush like some teenager just realizing the stupid crush that had turned into falling was reciprocal; that it had been for months and that he had been too blind to see it.

“Well, you could write it down th—”

Bard didn't have time to finish; he was cut off by loud barks, and suddenly there was a weight against his back and he was pushed forward; he crashed into Thranduil, who fell backwards with a yelp of surprise which by some miracle managed to stay regal (it was completely beyond Bard's reach).

And that is how Bard ended up on the floor, on top of the man he was in love with, their noses brushing and their eyes staring into each other's soul.

Oh, and there was a huge stinky dog licking the side of their faces, too.

Bard couldn't help his nervous laugh, but Thranduil only smiled awkwardly once the shock of the situation was replaced with the realization of what was actually happening. Bard recovered, tried to push the dog away, and got back on his feet. It was only then that the dog ran away, though not back outside; no, no, he disappeared down the hall and behind doors.

Bard helped Thranduil back on his feet before he wiped the saliva of his cheek with his sleeve, a disgusted expression on his face. Of course, Thranduil had to get a handkerchief out his pocket to take care of his own.

It wouldn't be enough to get rid of the mud that was now on their clothes, though.

“I don't remember you having a dog?” Bard asked, trying (and failing) to ignore the light blush spread on Thranduil's cheeks as their eyes met, painfully aware of how close they had been not a minute ago.

“I don't,” Thranduil confirmed. He still seemed a little off, searching Bard's eyes, and Bard was under the impression he was waiting for something.

They stood there for a moment, none of them apparently knowing what to do or say, despite the fact that there was a stray dog covered in mud running around Thranduil's house, and certainly making a mess of it.

It was only when they heard something breaking and Legolas asking what was happening from upstairs that they snapped back to reality.

“Stay in your room, Legolas!” Thranduil instructed, before he moved into a action; he went for the room where the noise seemed to come from, Bard on his heels after picking up his hat. He still had packages to deliver, but they could wait; after all, the dog had surely entered Thranduil's property because of him, by following his car through the gates.

Thranduil's mansion seemed to never end; halls and corridors seemed to go on and on, and the rooms they crossed were as big as Bard's apartment. They were also stained with mud, dirt, and doggie paw prints.

Bard winced every time they came across some fallen (and sometimes broken) object, cursing himself for not thinking about the possibility of the dog following him in. 

“Where on Earth is that dog,” Thranduil muttered through gritted teeth as they entered yet another empty room.

“Isn't it weird that he stopped barking?” Thranduil glared at him, but then he shook his head in mock exasperation. Bard didn't know himself where he was going with that statement, but at the moment he had truly believed it was of some importance. Apparently, it wasn't. “I mean, it would be easier if he did.”

Bard stopped right on his tracks as they passed a(nother) room, and caught Thranduil's arm before he could walk out of reach.

“Thranduil, wait,” Bard whispered, pointing to the inside of the rather large room. “Look, there he is.”

And indeed there was the dog, laying on Thranduil's couch and looking at them as if he knew exactly what he had done.

Thranduil let out a sigh, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn't seem pleased by the situation, though Bard was surprised to see him so calm with his home in such a state.

“I'm sorry for all this mess,” Bard said as he turned away from the dog to put his hand on Thranduil's shoulder, offering his most genuine apologetic look. “I'll pay what I can, or in any way you need, if that's what you—”

Much like he had earlier, Bard ended up with a pain in his back, and on top of Thranduil; though this time the dog ran away at once, and he couldn't hide the blush that spread fast on his cheeks. It was also impossible for him to ignore the way Thranduil was looking at him, taking his breath away.

He straightened out his elbows and was going to try and stand up before he could do anything stupid, but then there were hands catching his arms, holding him right there, connecting his hazel eyes to Thranduil's.

“I can think of a way,” Thranduil breathed.

Before Bard realized what those words implied, Thranduil's hands went up his arms and framed his face. Then there were soft, perfect lips crashing into his own, and all he could do was give in. He kissed back, gentle yet fierce in his own way, as his fingers now ran through Thranduil's silken hair.

It was all so very messy; but it was also gentle, and held a thousand promises just waiting to be fulfilled.

They were smiling all throughout it, chuckling at how ridiculous a way this was finally happening in, and that was what made it all perfect.

They laughed about their silly story for all the years they spent together, told it to whoever might want to hear it; it became their children's favourite, and it never failed to make people smile, though they weren't sure everyone believed them. Bard's colleagues sure didn't.

But they never cared, because they knew it was true.

And of course, they adopted the dog.

**Author's Note:**

> _what have I written_
> 
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> 
> I had a lot of fun writing it, so I hope you enjoyed this silly thing :D Leave a Kudos if you liked it? Also, nothing makes me happier than comments! :)
> 
> Thank you [Iza](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Piyo13) for editing this <3


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